Alone - A Quirrelmort Fanfic
by TheAwesomeGeek
Summary: Based on A Very Potter Musical, and Harry Potter and the sorcerers stone. They did not appear to have AVPM under musicals, so I chose the book as the category even though the musical is more precice. And for those who doesn't know, Quirrelmort is Voldemort and Quirrel.
1. Alone - Chapter 1

So, finally reuploaded this after figuring how to upload chapter for chapter... Didn't do it before because I'm lazy and stupid. XD Sorry. ;)

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**Chapter 1; Prisoner**

He was curled up in the corner of his cell, his screams piercing through the prison. The breath of the guards made the air cold and foggy. Through the castle you could hear the screams and moans of the entire prison, but there was one of them that screamed over all the others. The others prisoners were afraid of him, even the dementors watching over him was confused. Sometimes he just curled up in a corner and sobbed, sometimes he screamed the most terrifying screams ever heard, and sometimes he laughed in a scary and manically way.

No one knew who he was really. His name was Quirrel, and he had been a highly respected professor. But then something happened. Some rumors said that he killed a boy. Others said that he was framed. Someone even said that he had helped Voldemort return. He had been there a long time. People were surprised that he hadn't died already.

Suddenly he opened his eyes, looked wildly around. He looked at the dark hard stonewalls in his cell. Then he looked through the sprinkles in his cell door and out in the passageway. He heard footsteps coming towards him. Was he imagining things again? No, he didn't think so. For once, the curiosity overwhelmed the misery, and he looked out, wondering who it could be.


	2. Alone - Chapter 2

**Chapter 2; Alive again**

Voldemort opened his eyes and looked around. What had happened? He tried to sit up and felt pain soaring through his body. His vision was blurred and he was dizzy. He lay down and closed his eyes again, waiting 'til the pain faded. Then he looked around again. He was in a bright wood he had never seen before. The sunshine spread through the leaves. It was the first time in a long while he had thought about something that was beauty.

He tried to remember what had happened, but everything was kind of blurry. And then everything came back to him. He gasped pictures and memories streaming into his head. He had tried to kill Harry Potter, again. And then he... He died! The dark lord died. But if he was dead, how could he be here then? Was this heaven? No that was ridiculous; he would never go to heaven. And this couldn't be hell, it was to pretty. He tried to think back, the last thing he remembered was Harry Potter shouting "Expelliarmus," at the same time that he had shouted "Avada Kedavra." Then he saw a flash of gold that exploded with a flash of poisonous green and creating a bright grass green color with glitter in it. Then all he remembered was the cold black darkness.

Then guilt soared through his chest when he remembered. Remembered the only person he had liked, the only friend he had. And what had he done? He had sent him to rot in Azkaban for a murder that he himself had committed. He had to admit him, he loved him. And now he might be dead. A silent sob escaped from his lips. Maybe this was hell after all? And his punishment was to live with this guilt forever. He felt warm tears fall down his cheeks, but wiped them hastily away when he heard footsteps' coming towards him, soft steps on the dry leafs on the ground.


	3. Alone - Chapter 3

**Chapter 3; Freedom and misery**

A man in a grey suit and a greyish face came waking down the passageway. He looked very much like a muggle, but it couldn't be. He had brown sleek hair brushed sideways, and a brown toothbrush mustache. He was escorted by two dementors, and as they came nearer, it got more freezing with each step. Quirrel felt the misery take over again and backed away into the corner again.

The man looked in to the cell through the sprinkles. He saw a short thin man who was curled to a ball and sobbed silently in the corner. He wore a striped sweater and striped pants, like all the prisoners in Azkaban did. His hair was brown and long, but it looked as if it was short before he came here. The man opened the cell door and coughed. "Mr. Quirrel?" he asked. Quirrel opened his eyes and looked at the man in wonder. What did the man want with him? He did not look like a guy who would torture someone? He nodded slowly.

"My name is Barty Crouch, and I work with the wizard cops. Judging by some evidence given at Voldemorts death, you are free of all charges. You can leave whenever you want," he said in a dry bored voice, and then he left without another word. Quirrel just sat there, perplex. He knew he should be happy, but the only thing he could think of was that Voldemort was dead. Was he, really?

Quirrel ran out of the prison, almost senseless, without knowing where to go or what to do. The moment he was outside he disapparated to a lake not far off. He fell down, and just lay there in the grass sobbing, for a long time, until he cried himself to sleep.


	4. Alone - Chapter 4

**Chapter 4; Angel without wings**

Voldemort turned towards the sound, and saw a beautiful woman walking towards him. Her beauty was far beyond that of any mortal, she could not be human. She must surely be an angel. So then, was he in heaven after all? No, the angel had no wings, an angel without wings? All of a sudden, he knew what she was. It was a veela!

The veela stopped a few paces away from him, and sent him a stunning smile. Even her breath sounded musically, and a wind Voldemort couldn't see played in her hair. "Welcome Tom," she said, in a voice full of musical laughter. "I know you have a lot of questions, and I will answer the ones I can. My name is Soreena, and I am a veela of the tribe Aaren's guardians. We live here in the forest of Aaren, and our job given to us by the god of growth is to watch those who return. No, you are not dead. You are not very far away from the prison of Azkaban. You have returned to this world because of a power stronger than even death, a force hidden in a place that needs healing. When you find that place, you self will be healed too." After she had said this, she slowly faded away into nothing.

Voldemort stood there paralyzed and stared at the place she had vanished. What force did she talk about? She couldn't be talking about horcruxes; Harry Potter had destroyed all of them. It had to be something else. "Listen to your heart, Voldy," a small and musical voice sang inside of him. His heart? In the years that had passed, Voldemort had forgotten that he had a heart. The bitterness and hatred that has filled him, had taken his heart, and painted it pitch black. Now, for the first time in a very long time, he felt it whole and alive. The only other time he had felt that way was when he had shared Quirrels body.


	5. Alone - Chapter 5

**Chapter 5; Still Water**

Quirrel opened his eyes. He felt better than he had done in several months. But there was this aching in his heart that he knew had nothing to do with Azkaban. He was exhausted after the 5 months he had spent there, and starved. He took up his wand that he had gotten back when he left the prison. Two minutes later he sat eating food, not even noticing what he was eating.

Now that his stomach was full, the pains in his chest got worse. He had been a virgin all his life, and never felt true love before. And stupid as he was, he had gone and fell in love with the dark lord, of all people. And he had taken Voldemort for something he was not. Voldemort wasn't kind and fun as he had thought. He had betrayed him, and left him to rot in Azkaban, to be tortured because of a murder the dark lord himself had committed. And then he went and got himself killed... But still, Quirrel could not stop loving, his heart stop hoping.

Quirrel threw a flat small stone into the lake, and it jumped a couple of times on the surface before it sank. Silent tears fell down his cheeks again, he wondered how a human being could cry this much. He walked to the edge of the lake, and stood there looking at it. It was a beautiful lake; the only disturbance was his tears dripping into the water. He thought about just walk out, until the water was above his head, and the water rushed down his lungs. If he could drown his sorrows in this beauty but he couldn't bring himself to do it. There was still a part of him that hoped beyond hope, waiting for a miracle.


	6. Alone - Chapter 6

There, new chapter! Sorry for the long wait guys! :P

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**Chapter 6; Realization**

Voldemort sat on the forest floor, lost in thought. He tried to make sense of what the veela had said. What could she mean? And how was he supposed to listen to his heart, when he hadn't done so in almost all his life? He sighed, and buried his head in his hands. There was so much pain now, so much misery. And it felt like his heart was about to explode, so much pain.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there in the grass, but at last he got up. He couldn't be sitting there to the end of the days, though he wanted to. As he was walking down one of the paths, he felt that something wasn't how it was supposed to be, there in the woods. He couldn't put his finger on it; it was just a normal quiet wood. Wait! that was it! It was too quiet! He hadn't heard a single sound expect from himself and the veela. Not a cheerful chirp from a bird, not the running of a deer. How strange…

He didn't know where to go, but he started to walk anyway. Suddenly he stopped, and gasped. An image had popped up in his head. It was the image of a young man lying curled up like a ball by a lake. He was thin and his skin was a pale and sickly grey. He had long brown shabby greasy messy hair, and was cowered in dirt. "Quirrel!" Voldemort gasped.


	7. Alone - Chapter 7

**Chapter 7; Hey you…**

Quirrel was curled up like a ball, his eyes fixed on the lake. His eyes were dry and bloodshot. He was tired, but he would not fall asleep again, he feared the nightmares. He closed his eyes, resting, feeling the acing of his heart. "Just one more thing, one more miracle that's all I ask. Don't be dead. Just for me, please," he whispered out, to no one in particular.

He heard a sound behind him, like the sound of someone trying to silence a sob. It was kind of strange, because now that he came to think of it, he hadn't heard any other sound than himself before. He shrugged, and concluded that he was too tired to care. The time he had spent in Azkaban had made him quite jumpy, but right now he was just so tired. And he missed him so much, so very much.

"Hey you..." A voice behind him said. Quirrel knew that voice all too well, but how could it be? He turned slowly around and looked at him. "Voldemort?" he asked, his heart suddenly beating very fast. Voldemort was wearing a white cloak, and had a hesitant look on his face. "Is it really you?" Quirrel asked, still uncertain. Voldemort sighed and looked away. "What's left of me.." he said.


	8. Alone - Chapter 8

**Chapter 8; Confusion and guilt**

"But I heard you were killed," Quirrel said. Voldemort looked at him; a feeling of guilt filled him. The way Quirrel looked around with a nervous glance from time to time, and he looked so thin and fragile. "Yes, I was killed, but then I came back," he said, struggling to find a way to explain the unexplainable. Quirrel frowned and tilted his head to one side. "How is that possible?" he asked, quite confused. Voldemort shook his head, and tried to smile. "Even I can't say," he mumbled. He just stood there for a while, trying to say what he wanted to say. "Why did you come back?" Quirrel broke his chain of thought. "I… I didn't come back Quirrel," Voldemort said. An expression of pain shot past Quirrels face. "I came home," Voldemort said in a soft voice.

Tears filled Quirrels eyes, and he turned away. Voldemort walked slowly towards him, afraid that he had hurt him even more. He put his hand hesitantly on Quirrels shoulder. Quirrel jumped, but didn't push away his hand. Instead, he turned back and hurled himself into Voldemorts arms. Voldemort embraced him, and patted him a bit awkwardly on the back. Quirrel started sobbing. "I missed you so much," he said into Voldemorts cloak between the sobs. Voldemort held him tight, felling the guilt murmuring in his stomach. "I am sorry, I am so sorry," he said, his voice full off the pain he felt. Quirrel looked up, into his eyes. His own dark brown eyes were big and full of tears. Then he silently kissed him.

They sat there by the lake, close, holding each other. Their hearts beating at the same pace, they felt complete. Voldemort too, thought that the lake was very beautiful. But there was still this little tingling feeling of guilt inside of him. He knew how much pain he had done Quirrel. He had broken his heart, and damaged his soul, and he was afraid they wouldn't heal. Once more he mumbled into Quirrels hair: "I am so sorry. You were brilliant, and I screwed up…" Quirrel remained silent, and started to snore softly shortly after.


	9. Alone - Chapter 9

**Chapter 9; Together at last**

Quirrel awoke with a song in his heart. He turned around, and saw Voldemorts smiling peaceful face, there he was lying. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and looked at Quirrel. "Hey you," he said and smiled. Quirrel smiled warmly back at him. He shivered lightly, hadn't noticed before now how cold it was. "We should leave," Voldemort said. Quirrel nodded, and shivered. "But where?" he asked. "I just came out of Azkaban, and you are supposed to be dead…" Voldemort thought for a while. "I suppose we could always go to my granddad's old house. No one has been living there after I killed my grandparents and my dad there." Quirrel nodded, but felt a bit uneasy about the way he spoke so carelessly about killing people.

The fire crackled and Quirrel sat gazing into it with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. Voldemort looked over at him, not sure if he should say anything, or remain silent. At last, Quirrel looked at him. "Do you still want to kill Harry Potter?" he asked. Voldemort shook his head. "Nah… You see, when I returned, I realized something. Killing people doesn't make them like you. It just makes people dead," he said, and tried to hold back some tears. Quirrels rolled his eyes and smiled.

A knock on the door startled them both. "Quick, hide! If it is wizards they can't see you here with me!" Voldemort said and looked nervously around. Quirrel started shaking with fear. Voldemort took on the white hood on his cloak, and went to the door. Outside, a man stood waiting with a bored look on his face. He had sleek short brown hair, a brown toothbrush mustache. He was wearing a dark grey suit, and a matching tie.


	10. Alone - Chapter 10

**Chapter 10; Alone again**

Quirrel was lying in a large chest he had found. He had hexed the chest to be bigger on the inside, and so that he could see everything around him, without anyone being able to look in. He was shivering, afraid of what was going to happen. He saw Voldemort opening the door, and outside was the man from Azkaban! Barty Crouch or something was his name, wasn't it? He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he understood from the way Voldemort acted that it wasn't something good. He was sure that if Voldemort had his wand, that guy would be dead now.

"I just have to go get my black robes!" Voldemort said very loud. The man gave him a sharp nod, and went outside. Voldemort went to the chest Quirrel was in, and sighed. "I can't take them, they are too many. I have to go with them, but it's all right. It's my time to pay for what I did." With these words he turned and picked up some robed on a chair. When he was by the door, he turned back and whispered: "Goodbye Quirrel." Then he was gone. Where did he go? To Azkaban? Quirrel hoped not. Suddenly, Quirrel leaped out of the chest, and rushed to the door. Maybe it wasn't too late? He jerked it open, and looked out into the silent darkness of the night. "Voldemort!" Quirrel shouted into the night. He didn't know why really. He just didn't think he could stand being alone again.

Time went by, minutes, hours. He was just standing there, looking out of a window, as the sun rose. He felt empty; it was like a part of his heart had been ripped out. He just wanted to cry, but there were no tears left. What was he going to do? He dared not even go near that prison again, but he couldn't let Voldemort be there alone either. Quirrel sighed. Oh, what was he to do?


	11. Alone - Chapter 11

Last chapter coming tomorrow. :)

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**Chapter 11; Darkness**

Voldemort opened his eyes, but all that met them was consuming darkness. It was freezing, a chill that bite to the bone. He shivered and curled himself into a ball. There was only one good thing about this; he did no longer feel guilty. He had paid his debt to Quirrel. Quirrel had gone to Azkaban because of him, but now he was in Azkaban himself. Now everything was all right. But he knew his life wouldn't last long here. If he was killed, he might survive again, but this was so much worse. A dementor's kiss wouldn't kill him; it would suck out his soul. His body would still be there, his heart would still be beating, but **he **wouldn't be there. And that was the worst that could happen.

Someone drifted past his cell, and he felt something sting him, right in the heart. If were like if someone had pressed a needle right into it, and were turning it around and around in there. He gasped; the pain took his breath away. What was this? He heard himself scream in agony, but it felt like he drifted away slowly from himself. He looked down at himself, like from a distance, saw his arm raise up in the air, and utter a single word, before it fell down lifeless. And Voldemort drifted further away.

At the same time, a long way away, in a big empty scary mansion, a young man dressed in an Azkaban prisoner suit and with brown hair suddenly jerked up. A silent scream left his lips, and then the scream got sound. A piercing and horrifying scream that woke the whole village. When the police forced its way into the house half an hour later, they found a man lying face down on the floor, dead. Beside him were a note, and a single word were written on it.


	12. Alone - Chapter 12

Last chapter :)

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**Chapter 12; The end**

The single word that Voldemort had whispered before he died, were "Quirrel." You might have guessed that. Then I guess that you won't be surprised when I tell you that the words on Quirrels note were "Voldemort," either, because love can be a very powerful thing. It can be cruel, or beautiful, but anyway, always powerful. And when it is torn apart, strange things happen. You might sit there now, thinking that was a really sad ending. But it's not over yet. Because I felt, that unlike many of my other stories, this one needed a happy ending.

In a field of flowers, in the middle of nowhere, a man sat in the grass. Or, he didn't sit in the grass really. He was floating some inches over the grass. If you stood far away, you might think it were an illusion of the sun. But it weren't He was a silvery slightly see-through grey, and he sat there, like he were waiting for someone. The man wore a black and white striped long sweater, and his hair seemed to have once been brown. Towards him on the field came now another man walking. He was a bit taller, and dressed in a white cloak.

The first man rose, and they ran into each other's arms. The two ghosts, the ghosts of Quirrel and Tom Riddle were standing there, together at last, forever. What had seemed to be the end, had really been the start of eternity.


End file.
